In Theory, This Works
by PoisonComeUndone
Summary: When Sam meets Eliot in a bar in Palo Alto, it doesn't take either of them long to realize there's potential there for a good night. What they don't realize, however, is there's a little more there than that.


This was written for the leverage kink meme. :) I'd _never_ thought of this pair, but I actually really like them now, dammit. *tries in vain to corral hopping plot bunnies*

* * *

He saw him first on the other side of the bar, and he couldn't help but notice because _damn_ he was pretty. I mean, strictly speaking, Sam considers himself mostly straight. He'd had crushes on a couple guys in high school and after coming to college and experimenting some he found out that yeah, he's definitely interested in playing both teams. All that considered, he's not a stranger at all to finding men attractive but this guy…he was gorgeous. Muscular without being over the top, long hair that looked just right on him, and something about the way he was even just sittin' there, something under the surface. Gorgeous.

But, this wasn't a gay bar and picking up guys in a place like this was always difficult and frustrating business, so he didn't even really let himself consider it. He just ordered another drink and kept thinking about how glad he was that it was Friday and his midterm week was over, and he stole glances over at the guy whenever he got a chance.

At around 12:45, all that got disrupted. He hadn't been paying _too_ much attention, but it sounded like it got started initially over someone grinding on someone else's girl out on the floor. In a place this small though, anything that started private didn't stay that way. It escalated quick, and when Sam turned to see a guy getting tossed into the pool table, he decided he'd better intervene.

It was getting pretty ridiculous fast, and he latched onto a guy that was just getting ready to involve himself in the fight, yanking him back and shoving him into a chair. The 'stay' in that should've been clear enough, but as Sam reached for the arm of a swinging guy to his left he felt the other guy tackle him from behind. It was easy enough to twist away, and his hands jerked at the guy's fingers and broke his grip, pushing back that time hard enough that he ended up sprawled on the floor. "Look, just stay out of it alright?"

He pretty much sensed the next blow coming, from the guy he'd tried to grab, and he ducked it, connected a solid hit to the man's middle and another to his shoulder when he bent over, sending him to his knees. To his right there was a guy beating another guy's head into the wall and he headed toward that next, until he was stopped in his track by hands around his throat. He reached up to try and grab the guy's wrists to throw him forward and off like he'd been taught, but he didn't get the chance. There was a thud and then the hands were falling away, and he turned around quick to see why.

The guy from the bar was there, and he stood over the drunk's form smirking a little in the dark. "If you knock 'em out, then you're _sure_ they won't get back up."

Well, he could do that, but he was trying to not be quite that harsh. He could though, if he was going to have to. He had more than enough experience. "Yeah, thanks."

He shrugged, and then he sidestepped to let a thrown punch from another brawler lose its momentum before he stepped in and twisted his arm to bring him to the floor. Sam threw himself back into the fight, too. It took awhile to get it all sorted out, though it probably wasn't half as long as it seemed, and by the time it was done Sam came out of it barely breathing hard, though he knew he'd have a couple of bruises showing tomorrow.

Considering he'd had a little bit of a buzz going already when it started, not bad at all. Plus, he hadn't fought like this since…well, it'd been a long time. One of the bartenders was structuring just a little more order out of the remaining chaos when Sam felt a hand on his shoulder, turned around to see the guy he'd been fighting with.

"You held your own pretty good there."

He shrugged, smiling. "Yeah? So did you."

He got a little bit of a smile in return, and a steady stare from questioning blue eyes. "Where'd you learn to fight like that?"

"Growing up. My dad's an ex-marine." _And he hunts things you don't believe in_. Yeah, it was always best to leave that part out. "What about you?"

"Job training." He held his hand out and Sam took it, tried not to be a little too interested in his strong grip. "Eliot Spencer."

"Sam Winchester." Eliot's eyes dragged over him, and Sam just barely kept himself from shifting under the weight of his gaze. He was sizing him up, yeah, but unless Sam was crazy, there was some appreciation in there too.

"So, wanna grab a beer with me?"

Sam nodded, hoped he didn't look _too_ interested just yet. "Yeah, yeah that'd be great." He thought then that maybe if he was lucky this was going somewhere, but he wasn't sure, not just yet. A couple beers later, he was. They talked pretty comfortable and easy, and there was something in Eliot's voice, an accent he couldn't quite pin down that placed him somewhere in the Midwest, close to Kansas. Not to mention if he'd been attractive from across the bar he was downright irresistible now with his deep blue eyes and strong arms and slightly dangerous charm. He had sex on a regular enough basis, but it'd been a long time since he fucked someone he wouldn't have to worry about being a little rough with, but this guy…if he left here with Eliot, he was gonna get a good fuck, no doubt about it.

Eliot shifted on his stool, his leg brushing against Sam's and Sam took the opportunity to press into it, advertise that _yeah_ he was fuckin' ok with this. Eliot smirked, tilted his head back and downed the last of his beer, and Sam watched him swallow and felt the room get about 10 degrees hotter. Eliot reached into his pocket and tossed some money on the bar, dropped his other hand to slide down Sam's thigh as he slipped his wallet back in his pocket.

"You wanna get outta here?"

_Hell_ yes. Sam had been dying to get out of there for about an hour. "Yeah. Yeah, sounds great."

Eliot's eyes burned with something between a smile and outright hunger, and Sam's heart jackhammered a little when their shoulders brushed as they stood. "C'mon. Got a hotel room just next door."

It was cold outside, and though they kept close on the walk across two parking lots Sam kept his hands jammed in his pockets. His hands were itching to _touch_ already, and if they brushed Eliot's now knowing that he was actually gonna be able to take what he wanted soon enough, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to stop himself from putting them everywhere.

It was a first floor room, and Eliot edged in first and held the door open for him, not bothering to turn on the light. He slid the key card back into his pocket, the door clicked shut, and Sam got maybe two seconds to breathe before Eliot was right up against him, fingers tightening in his hair as he pulled him down for a kiss. He'd thought about this a lot in the past half hour or so, and in his head there'd been lots of teeth and jostling and ripping shirts off with jeans yanked down barely below their hips and Eliot's strong hands gripping bruises into his hip as he fucked him against the wall.

This? This isn't anything like that. It's hungry, sure, and Eliot licked his way into his mouth like he's never tasted anything better, but the hand holding Sam's head in place isn't holding on too hard, and Eliot's other hand has slid just up under his shirt to rest over his ribs, rubbing sure and slow and sensual. His own hands have come to rest against Eliot's lower back, and when he sucks on Eliot's lower lip he feels him flex closer.

Sam pulls back to take a breath, but the light from the parking lot is shining in just enough for him to see the way Eliot's head's tipped back, throat bared to him, and _God_ he's got a serious thing for that. He dips his head, and he closes his mouth over Eliot's pulse. The low noise he makes when Sam swirls his tongue over the soft skin is nothing short of incredible, and he nips gently, soothes with his tongue to try and get that sound again.

The hand Eliot had in his hair slides lower, kneads at the back of his neck soft, more caress than real pressure, and there's something so seriously hot in that little gesture that Sam groans against his throat, desperate to feel that touch everywhere. The hand under his shirt slides farther up, tugging and insistent, and he pulls back long enough to pull it over his head and toss it somewhere over to the side.

Eliot's hands are on his chest then, and his head knocks back against the door, breath coming hard and fast under his touch. There's something so sure and strong and gentle all at the same time about the way Eliot's hands glide across his skin, and when those hands curve over his hipbones to pull his body close, Sam's moaning before Eliot even starts marking his shoulder. Eliot's thigh slips between his, and when his hips jerk forward at the pressure he could felt Eliot's cock jerk and harden further against him.

He's frustrated a second when Eliot pulls back, but it's only to take his hand and yank him toward the bed. Eliot lets go as soon as Sam gets the idea, and he jerks his own shirt up and off before he's on the bed, leaning over Sam and kissing him. One hand roams over his chest, skimming low over his abdomen, and Eliot kisses him like they have all the time in the world. Sam's always enjoyed kissing and this guy's damn good at it, in ways that make him _want_ so hard his head's spinning. The stranger realization is probably the fact that it's harder or _more_ that he wants, just more of this, of the way Eliot's tongue slides in smooth and sure and strokes against his, the way his hips rock against Sam's hard enough to feel good but slow enough that the low burn of it makes him feel high.

They're lost like that for God only knows how long, long enough for him to realize just how much he likes the way Eliot moans when he sucks on his tongue and holds his hips in place to rock against him at the same time. Eventually Eliot's hand is sliding between them, coming to cup the bulge at the front of Sam's jeans, and the way he whispers "Damn, boy…" all soft and breathless, part teasing and part genuine lust is enough to make Sam flush and press into his touch.

They haven't been talking much, haven't had room for it around the kisses but Eliot trails down his chest then, carefully drags down his zipper and pulls him out, and he breathes "Want this." against Sam's hip. That's all the warning he gets before Eliot's mouth is closing over the head, sucking hungrily. He cries out, his hips arching off the bed despite Eliot's grip. He's been sucked before a handful of times, but never by anyone this skilled and when Eliot runs his tongue smooth up the underside, pausing to jab a little just under the head, Sam know he's gotta stop him or this is gonna be over far too soon.

His fingers stroke through Eliot's hair, and he realizes with a jolt that he loves the way it feels, long and soft in his fingers and just right for Eliot even though he's rarely met another man that wore his hair this long. He tugs gently and Eliot gets the picture, though he seems reluctant to stop, and Sam groans as his cock slides wetly from Eliot's mouth, damp in the cool air. Eliot pulls back just enough, and they both take a minute to fumble with their pants and socks, kicking them down and off. Eliot pauses just a little longer, slides a wallet out of his back pocket and pulls out a condom, and watching him lay it on the bedside table Sam's heart rate ratchets up just a little higher.

The minute Eliot leans back down he takes control, rolling them. Initially his only thought is the need to kiss him again, but he can taste himself on Eliot's lips and he moans low in his throat, his hips lining up just right to thrust against Eliot's thigh. He can feel Eliot, hard and rubbing against whatever part of Sam he can reach, and Sam can't resist the urge to touch him. He slides a hand between them, long fingers wrapping around Eliot's hard length.

Eliot's fully under him, body arching and beautiful in the low light, and he moans low and desperate as his hips start to work up into Sam's hand. "Jesus, fuck, your fucking _hands_…" Eliot's head jerks back, panting, and Sam feels like he's about two seconds from coming just _watching_ the way he responds to Sam's touch. He rocks against Eliot's thigh slow and measured, tries his best to make himself stop because as good as he knows that'd feel, he doesn't want things to end like that.

He's biting his lip hard, and he's about to reach over and pull the condom over Eliot's dick when Eliot's hand grabs his wrist, insistent and he pulls it up to his lips. He sucks two fingers in, milking his own taste from them and tonguing them like he's wishing it was Sam's cock, and Sam shudders, nearly dizzy with the need to come _right then_. He can still feel the way Eliot's mouth had felt around him, and…

It's around then Sam has the presence of mind to realize just where this is going, and while he'd had every intention of bottoming when he'd come in here, pretty much everything about this has turned whatever he expected up on its head, and besides that, he's pretty positive that _any_ way this goes isn't gonna stop it from being some of the best sex he's ever had.

He pulls spit slick fingers careful from his mouth, takes the time to tease around Eliot's hole with one before he pushes in. Eliot growls, thighs spreading wider for him as he pushes up against his hand. "_Don't_. Just…_yeah_…" As much as he'd like to take this a little slower, he can totally understand. He could've come just making out and rubbing up against him on the bed and Eliot's obviously just as hard, cock curved up and red and leaking against his belly.

He slides the second finger in slow, scissors them a little before thrusting just a little deeper and hooking up. Eliot cries out, muscles taunt, and he reaches up and pulls Sam down into an open mouthed kiss, tongue thrusting impatiently into his mouth. He keeps the presence of mind to keep working him through it, and when he adds a third finger Eliot breaks the kiss, his breath catching.

"Stop. You gotta stop, right now, Sam, dammit, now, ok? Just…"

"Yeah. Yeah, I know." He's breathless, and he reaches over to tear open the condom with his teeth, his hands shaking a little as he rolls it on. He knows before he even pushes in that this is gonna go faster than he'd like it to, and it does, but just like everything else that's happened so far, it isn't harried. He pushes in, groaning quietly in response to the way Eliot's body stretches to take him in. He doesn't pull all the way out to thrust at first, just rocks his hips and listens to Eliot's breath hitch, feels his chest heave and his cock twitch between them. There's sweat pooling in the hollow of Eliot's collarbone, and he dips his head to suck at the skin there.

Even when he starts to really move his thrusts are shallow, staying mostly connected and swiveling his hips to hit Eliot just right every time. Eliot alternates between swearing and jerking Sam's head up for disorganized kisses, and when Sam comes it's so strong he feels incredibly close to blacking out.

He rolls off of him, ties the condom and drops it over the edge of the bed, thinking he'll throw it away in a minute when he gets up. Eliot's still breathing hard, and he encircles Sam's wrist with one hand.

"Stay."

Honestly, that sounded like a wonderful idea.

* * *

Eliot had known from right when he saw him that he should've known better. The kid was gorgeous, sure, but there was something else about him that had been enough to draw him in, and somewhere between buzzed conversations and amazing sex he'd realized that that something else was the kind of something else that could _keep_ drawing him in.

Sam was full of contrasts, gentle and rough and smart and stubborn, from what he could tell, and he knew from the some of the looks he'd seen in Sam's eyes there was more than a little he had to hide. That was alright, really. He had plenty to hide himself, and maybe if they both had demons, that wouldn't be so bad.

Of course, he'd thought of that when Sam was sleeping in his arms, blessed out and sex limp, and he'd even let himself keep thinking it a little while he made Sam breakfast in the tiny hotel kitchen. They'd eaten and talked and laughed, and he'd sucked Sam off in the shower and loved the feel of Sam's hands against the back of his head and loved even more the look in his eyes when he'd smiled at him afterwards, and he'd realized that this wasn't just a bad idea, it was a _horrible_ idea.

The last time he'd run with anything that felt like this, he'd broken Aimee's heart and a couple of pieces of what was left of his own. No good could come of it, and all the same, he wasn't sure he could stop it. Short term, best thing he could do for everyone involved was to get out of town quick, and so he had.

That hadn't stopped him, though, from 'accidentally' showing up in Palo Alto six months later, and he'd figured that as long as he was there anyway, looking for Sam a little couldn't hurt. He found him, sitting cross-legged on a park bench with a textbook spread out between him and a beautiful blonde girl that was listening to him talk.

When Sam leaned over to kiss her, he drove away.


End file.
